


Holiday Surprise

by ETNMystic



Series: Mystic's Original Works (Possibly Transferred From My Other Accounts On Other Writing Sites) [14]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Family Separation, Gen, World War 2, aryan camp, killing implication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24018034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ETNMystic/pseuds/ETNMystic
Summary: Elsa Petersen and her sister Trude are awoken by the arrival of a messenger, but it may not be the holiday surprise they hoped for...(IDK if this is entirely historically accurate, I wrote this in late middle school/early high school, I think.)
Series: Mystic's Original Works (Possibly Transferred From My Other Accounts On Other Writing Sites) [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726699
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Holiday Surprise

December 24th, 1942:

I hear the crackle of the fireplace as I try to let it lull me to sleep. But the prospect of Christmas is always exciting for me, even during times like this. Mama and papa are downstairs drinking homemade tea. Dear mama-what a generous person-saved three months worth of her ration cards just to get the tea bags. She's promised the rest of us mint tea with our breakfast in the morning.

There weren't supposed to be any presents this year. However papa informed me earlier that evening that he had a surprise. I would have to wait until morning to see it, though.

I need to get to sleep, so I let the thought of the surprise drift off into the back of my mind. I begin to go into a deep sleep when---

_Knock! Knock!_

Two loud knocks on our front door shake me from my almost-slumber. I hear the slap of papa's shoes against the wood as he heads to the door. The creak of the door bounces against my ear drums, but is soon pushed away by the sound of a gasp and the voice of sharp stern men.

Even though I'm in my room on the second floor, the wind of the winter midnight races around my body, taunting me with the fear of the unknown.

 _"Maybe it's Saint Nikalus,"_ it hisses at me.  
 _"Or maybe not. Who are these people? Why are they here? You may never know."_

The hostility of this breeze makes me shiver under my lightweight nightgown Then it is followed by a new voice. This time it comes from my curiosity.

 _"Then go find out,"_ it urges.

Quiet as a mime, I glide over to the railing. I hear the loud click of boots from the strange visitors.

"Don't act like you don't know why we're here," the clicks seem to say.

As they pass the staircase, I spot them and gasp silently. It's definitely not Saint Nikalus. In their black uniforms, shiny spit-polish helmets, and spotless boots, you can tell them from a mile away.

"Gestapo," I gasp.

The word leaves a bitter aftertaste on my tongue as I hear another bedroom door open.

"Is Saint Nikalus here, Elsa?" my little sister whispers in hesitant joy.

"Nein," I whisper back.  
"Go back to bed, Trude."

She creeps inside her room and I tiptoe down the staircase. I can hear the squeak of the chair cushions as the Gestapo plop down on the couch by the fire. I'm so caught up in my own curiosity that I don't hear much of the conversation's beginning.

"---finest educators in all of Europe. You will not regret complying, we assure you," one of the men hisses.

"Ja," the other agrees.

I've always imagined the Gestapo as snakes, like Kaa from "The Jungle Book." Papa used to read it to Trude and me when we were small. I still remember the exhilaration of terror that I felt when papa read about his dance that he used to bring in his prey. They'd lure you in with promises, but they wouldn't tell you about the downsides until it was too late for you to reconsider.

"It will only be for until she comes of age. You can still write to her, but visits aren't allowed," I hear them add.

"But surely she can come back for holidays," papa suggests.

I hear a small wail from mama and panic begins to invade my mind like the Gestapo invaded our living room. Surely they aren't considering taking me away to wherever they want to. I'm already in school. Trude is only five and won't start school until next year.

"But that can't be," I whisper to myself.  
"They wouldn't want Trude. She has blonde hair, but she also has dark brown eyes---"

Then it hits me. Brown eyes. They want to take Trude away from us to starve her. Or perhaps they'll take her to the outskirts of Munich and shoot her. Whatever they're telling mama and papa is just a cover. Just like Kaa. Lure them in with false promise and then---

_Snap! Chomp! Gulp!_

Someone ends up a pile of rotting flesh and bones.

* * *

_I can see it now. She'll be placed in front of a wall outside of a small building. Perhaps they'll say that they need to shoot a photo of her for the school. What a clever cover. Trude loves the limelight._

_"Big smile," they'll say._

_I can see her grin morph into a scream of terror once she sees the camera._

_"Say cheese!" the photographer will tell her._

_*Click!* goes the camera._

_In front of that wall will no longer be a happy smiling giggling girl. Only a terrified corpse in her place. No emotion will show in those beautiful brown eyes of her. Except for fear. Oh yes, lots of fear._

* * *

"We will come back the 1st of January," I hear the Gestapo explain as I snap out of my thoughts.  
"We encourage you to comply as soon as possible. By January it will not be voluntary. Good night, Frau and Herr Petersen."

The clicks of their boots begin to scream at me again.

"It's too late," they laugh.

The door slams behind, leaving only the sound of silence and the hostile frosty wind.

I can't hold it in much longer. I run downstairs in anger as the fireplace crackles more violently.

"How can they do this?" I exclaim.

Mama and papa look up from their silent cries.

"It's not fair! They can't kill Trude just because she has brown eyes."

"What are you talking about?" papa asks.

I look at them in confusion.

"Isn't that why they were here? To take Trude away?"

Both of them glance at each other with looks of sorrow.

"Nein, Elsa," mama sighs in regret.

"But then why else--?" I begin.

My voice trails off as the horror hits me. They didn't come for Trude. They came to take me away.

"But why?" I ask as a sob fills my throat.

Mama and papa sigh.

"The Nazis have started a program for Aryan girls to be further educated in the ways of the Third Reich," papa explains.

I feel a bit of relief in me.

"That doesn't sound too bad," I point out.

"You don't understand, Elsa," mama adds.  
"My friend Frau Bäker had a child in the same program."

"Had?"

A tear rolls down mama's face.

"She was fifteen when they took her. They told us that you would be in the school until you turn eighteen, but---"

Fear begins to invade my mind and I let out a small sob as I fall into mama's lap. I begin to tune out everything else. I don't need to hear any more to know that I'm never going to see mama, papa, and Trude ever again.


End file.
